Ken Jaworowski

While scenes of the lake and land are magnificent, there are repulsive sights and stories, too. Whether inspiring or upsetting, all feel authentic.

If there aren’t many big laughs here, there are enough smiles to make the time pass pleasantly enough.

Mr. Fessenden’s ambition is admirable, and there’s more than a little raw skill on display. If this, his first feature, isn’t always worth recommending, his talents are certainly worth encouraging.

Asif Kapadia, the director (whose film “Amy” won an Oscar for best documentary), has a fine eye for splendor, as does Gokhan Tiryaki, his cinematographer. Mr. Kapadia’s sense of pacing isn’t as acute.

Asperger’s Are Us rarely stretches to be funny or poignant or touching, and that makes this documentary all the more of each.

This roughly constructed yet passionate documentary isn’t shy about showing the massacre of elephants or about calling out the groups implicit in the killings. That bluntness and courage usually overrides the uneven filmmaking.

While more information on the animals and their ecosystems is needed, the stakes described here are immense, as is the sorrow over majestic creatures massacred only so that their tusks can be made into baubles.

Thank You for Your Service, directed by Tom Donahue, uses its late scenes to explore nongovernment programs that have arisen to help veterans. Those examples are heartfelt and encouraging, and offer some hope after the devastating early sections.

Most extraordinary are interviews with the women who came forward to provide evidence in court. Their integrity and tenacity, and their loyalty to one another, is enough to bring you to tears.

Maya Angelou: And Still I Rise covers so much ground that it’s usually easy to forgive the filmmakers for not digging deeper. This is a documentary interested in breadth rather than depth, and on those terms it succeeds.

A documentary that is as rewarding as this artist’s work.

Sure, the filmmakers overdo their work. But it’s all in the service of love, and somehow that makes it O.K.

The directors let their subjects speak without overtly passing judgment.

While those seeking interplanetary scenarios may want more details, fans of endurance stories will be pleased. Indeed, Passage to Mars has the effect of making a trip to another world appear almost secondary. The journey undertaken here seems nearly as frightful and fascinating.

Connor Jessup wonderfully inhabits the teenage Oscar, who observes others while trying to find himself.

The Age of Shadows might tempt another filmmaker to dwell on issues or delve deeper into its characters’ hearts. Yet, for this director, exposition can’t hold a candle to elegantly staged shootouts. And who can blame him. He knows his strengths.

Silicon Cowboys prizes the human drama behind business events, much as in “The Social Network” or “Steve Jobs.” Those films, too, pretended that technology was the star. But they knew that people were the real story.

The story behind “Landfill Harmonic” is so good that even some imperfect filmmaking can’t hold it back.

Defying the Nazis: The Sharps’ War is a generic documentary about two people who were anything but. Yet even when the film wanes, its subjects still come across as remarkable.

While eavesdropping on these academics, you may be captivated by their exchanges while frustrated by their stasis while curious about their lives. Indeed, there are several ways to look at these scenes. But all you really have to do is listen.

In his director’s statement, Mr. Perez, who also wrote the script, says he sought to fashion a story “that would confuse and bludgeon the audience.” My comrade and I will sip, silently nod and, with a strange kind of awe, agree: This filmmaker succeeded.

The humble Mr. Norman is always ready with a laugh, and it’s tough not to smile yourself when he reaches for a pencil and starts drawing. When that happens, it’s redundant to say he’s special. Anyone can see it.

A bittersweet and lovely little movie.

Making a Killing generates a disgust that can’t be shaken.

Mr. Kraume captures the glances and motions that lay bare a character’s thoughts. He’s fond of the gruff and curmudgeonly Bauer, yet sentimentality is scarce while the double-crossings are surprising and the dry humor is welcome.

Part scrappy, part sweet and wholly enjoyable, The Lost Arcade is a love letter to a vanished piece of New York, and a little wish for the future.

The sense of danger is palpable, as is the sense of misery after the most dreadful scenes.

Even with the tongue-in-cheek tone, it’s impossible to overlook the exhausting series of contrivances, coincidences and sloppy filmmaking.

Approaching the story for the traditional trappings — narrative, action, even logic — is to ensure disappointment. But look to it for beauty and lyricism, and you may find a deeper satisfaction.

Ms. Meeropol is steadfast in providing both sides of the story. That’s admirable, yet it can come across as uninvolving.

It’s a movie whose good heart is outweighed by its heavy hand.

The closing scene of “Faith,” beautifully blunt, ends it on the perfect note. Sure, you could point out a few shortcomings here and there. But those sins are easy to overlook.

The Absent One finds Mr. Kaas as watchable as before, though a few well-intentioned attempts to lighten up his character — an orphaned cat is brought in, a speech about his motivations is given — are clumsily executed, and instead divert from his terse and magnetic personality.

The film, directed by Mikkel Norgaard (who’s borrowed a thing or three from David Fincher) and first released in Denmark in 2013, often focuses on research rather than on gunplay, yet somehow it still feels filled with action. That’s a testament to its lead actors.

Part psychology seminar and sociology course, “Germans & Jews” finds its sharpest insights as it examines the stress of communication, when both sides are so hyper-aware of the past that it hinders what’s said in the present.

To be sure, this loosely structured story needs a stronger outline; you’ll often wish for clarifying details on the group’s programming and its unfamiliar instruments. But then the music will play, and you’ll think this film wants for nothing.

Mr. Allen has made an engrossing and tense documentary, though his insider knowledge is sometimes a hindrance.

As lovely as the movie is to look at (and the final scene is exceptionally wonderful), it’s too oblique to concentrate its energies and sharpen its focus.

To be sure, nothing in this film is easy to hear. But that doesn’t mean that it shouldn’t be said, and learned from.

I must have breathed while watching Cash Only. But it sure felt as if I didn’t. This brutal and severe film has that effect.

Everything’s in service of the images in Bridgend, a stylishly shot, eerily scored and moodily acted film that wants for nothing but a plot. Depending on how you like your movies, this is either a walkout or a must-see.

The obvious problem with its subject-says-all approach is the lack of outside voices and perspective. This is a broad summation of the man, not a critical look at his policies.

It’s appealing to adults and accessible to younger viewers. And it delivers an environmental message that is strong and serious while remaining encouraging and optimistic. That’s important to hear. The rest is just amazing to watch.

For sure, there are plenty of humorous moments here. But that underlying sadness is the most affecting aspect of the film.

A one-word assessment of this documentary: Tough. As in, tough to watch. Tough to consider. Tough to ignore.

An understated and often charming film.

For a movie that promises an “epic journey” to explore a family’s “long-buried suffering,” it’s strangely unsatisfying, and eventually wearisome, to find that this clan is deeply troubled perhaps only in the eyes of its filmmaker.

Mr. Hauck’s affection is apparent in every frame, yet outside of an occasionally clunky line or show-offy moment (O.K., sometimes it’s more occasional than just occasionally), he rarely allows it to alter his aim. That aim is to make a modern noir. That aim is true.

Until it delivers an eye-rolling scene near the end, Miracles From Heaven is an unexpectedly effective tear-jerker. More surprising still, that late diversion doesn’t negate much of the movie’s early sincerity.

A remarkably enjoyable, and sometimes very funny, documentary about a frightening topic.

Catherine Lutes’s camera catches magnificent views of Revelstoke, British Columbia, that are worth watching as you wait 18 minutes for the next semi-interesting scene.

Though the timeline and a few details could use further clarification, dream/killer remains fast-paced and frightening.

Though speechifying and mawkishness are thankfully scarce, the bland script gives her few chances to go beyond the expected formula.

It’s a fond and forgiving tribute to the man, filled with music that moves beyond happy and sad, and toward something like brilliance.

If all of Song of Lahore were as exciting as its ending, you’d need an hour afterward to catch your breath. It’s not, yet despite a lackluster start, this documentary redeems itself by the finale.

Rock in the Red Zone has its best moments when it explores the anxiety of Sderot’s residents and their endurance. It’s the strongest topic here, and the one you’re most sorry to see interrupted when the film inevitably switches over to something else.

While these men aren’t accountable for the actions of their fathers, they are obligated to recognize the truth of what happened. To see one of them deny that truth is difficult to watch, and just as hard to look away from.

I’m only a little embarrassed at liking Heneral Luna, an audaciously manipulative movie that’s more involving than it should be. But really, when a film works this hard to rouse you, there’s no shame in just giving in.

Because of its shortcomings, (T)error serves as evidence of a broken system rather than an indictment of it. Yet such evidence is worrisome and points to a threat to civil rights.

An exceptionally absorbing documentary.

While the scenes shown from “Bulletproof,” the western they complete, are haphazard, that’s of little concern. If you want to see real courage, it’s not in that movie anyway. It’s in this documentary.

The makers of A Brave Heart: The Lizzie Velasquez Story leave a few too many questions unanswered, but their subject’s immense optimism steamrolls through the documentary’s shortcomings. Indeed, there seems to be little this woman can’t vanquish.

A jumbled third act and an indifferent ending ultimately make Hellions disappointing. But there’s a bit of fun to be had in its opening frights, and in trying to figure out what these costumed little monsters really want.

It certainly demands patience (and a forgiving eye) as it experiments with an odd style. Yet it’s also a compassionate look at characters who don’t dwell on life. Instead, they live.

Theories that are worth voicing are apparently worth repeating, and beats that sound catchy are sure to be replayed many times.

Juicy dilemmas are dangled in front of the audience, then disappointingly yanked away.

Even knowing the secret of A Gay Girl in Damascus doesn’t make this documentary any less tense. That’s a testament to Sophie Deraspe, a director who understands how to let a plot unfold.

Even at 75 minutes, it can feel padded with footage whose connection to the central plot is tenuous. But at its best, The Wanted 18 follows a worthy tradition of highlighting absurdities that arise during conflict.